Part of Myself Solo Finished

Mentioning @Flash Holmwood and @Jack Burnett

He wasn't sure when exactly he had started running, only knew that he was still clutching his wand in his hand like it was the only thing keeping him steady, that his breath was stinging like shards of glass inside his lungs. His vision was blurry, his body trembling, finally breaking out of the calm facade he had put on as he had said his Goodbyes to Flash and Jack. He couldn't say for sure but he doubted either of them was following him, didn't think they really wanted to bother with his childish breakdown more than they had already had to.

In fact, he wasn't quite sure what either of them had wanted to achieve in the duration of this encounter, but it probably wasn't needing to deal with his violent outburst of panic, the mess inside his head creeping from the shadows to be smeared across his face in the form of sticky, ugly tears.

It could have ended relatively well, maybe. They might have parted relatively amicably, at least he and Flash, after having cleared up the fact that the Slytherin hadn't been out to harm anybody, hadn't meant to cause the hurt Ruka had inflicted on himself. If only he hadn't hugged him. The conflicting thoughts and emotions tearing him apart were still crawling across his entire body, made him scratch at his arm with his free hand until the skin turned irritated and red.

Ruka didn't think he had ever felt as much panic wash over him as he had in the moment Flash had wrapped his arms around him, no matter how light the touch had been. After all the things that had gone through his head throughout the duration of the race and the moments afterwards, after all the frustration that had built up inside him, the tidal waves of insecurities, the desperate wish to stay away from either of them while he was trying to figure out exactly where he stood with them... He hadn't wanted anybody to touch him was all he could think.

He hadn't wanted to be forced into Flash's life, hadn't wanted to attend the stupid race, hadn't wanted to try and fix things, hadn't wanted to be made to stay when he clearly wanted to leave, hadn't wanted anybody to touch him, but none of it had mattered. He hadn't mattered. His comfort, his needs, his boundaries had been disregarded over and over again in ways that made him sick to the stomach. He could still see Jack with his back turned to the whole scenario like he hadn't thrown Ruka into this situation without his consent when all he had really showed up for was to make sure Flash didn't mean to cause Jack any harm.

No good deed ever went unpunished, did it?

He just shouldn't have come, shouldn't have cared, should have stayed back in his dorm and let things unfold whichever way they pleased. Involvement had never been anything he'd craved particularly much, had never wanted to be the hero to keep things from happening or kick anything into motion, and he should have kept it that way.

Stupid.

He skidded to a halt at the edge of the forest, panting heavily as he dropped his wand and let himself fall against a tree, rough bark scraping at the already sensitive skin of his arm as he slid down to crumble on the ground for at least a moment to catch his breath. Was this what it was like to care about someone then? The painful realisation that care would inevitably lead to hurt and disappointment? That agony crawling through his veins like thick smoke, burning him up from the inside?

He should have never stopped avoiding people, had gone through life relying on nobody but himself before, had sworn he didn't need anybody, didn't want anybody after his dad had passed away, so why had he abandoned that promise? Because someone had done a few nice things for him? What did they really matter, things, materials, when his payment was to have his feelings and boundaries trampled across like they meant nothing at all? Was he really supposed to shed his own worth for the accumulation of valuables?

With an ear piercing scream he started slamming his fists against the rough bark of the tree. The effects were immediate; splinters of wood dug their way into the skin between his knuckles, the impact caused his bones to sting painfully but he couldn't bring himself to care. Maybe this was exactly the kind of punishment he deserved for his own stupidity. Without a second thought he pulled his fists back before punching the bark once again, feeling the blood smear between his fingers as his skin broke and blistered all around his knuckles. It hurt, but it didn't hurt enough.

Not enough to dull the ache inside him that constricted his lungs and kept his heart beating at a regular speed. There was a stinging in his chest, a rush of panic causing his throat to tighten. There were tears he couldn't remember crying streaming down his heated cheeks.

He kept slamming his fists into the tree until he ran out of breath and his white T Shirt was stained with blood all over, like some sort of gruesome crime scene. When he looked at his own hands he could barely recognise them anymore. No burn he'd ever experienced could match the way his skin had turned raw and dirty and bloodstained just now. He felt like he had just killed someone.

Maybe killed a part of himself.

Wincing lowly in pain, Ruka finally stopped his attack on the tree, instead burying his face in his bloody hands, thick, sticky red mixing with salty tears across his cheeks. He had just wanted to matter, for once, in his entirety. His thoughts, his feelings, his needs. He had wanted them to be acknowledged and respected, had felt like they were for a short, fleeting time until he had to cruelly, bit by bit, realise that they didn't really. To nobody but himself.

That was alright then.

Finally, slowly, regaining control of his breathing, Ruka sat up straight against the tree, lifting his face from the shelter of his palms without much consideration for how horrifying he had to look with blood smeared all over, red eyes glistening with tears he had finally shed until no more were willing to come.

He reached for his wand, less than a foot away, emitting a few sparks with the intensity of his own emotions as he took it back into his hand.

Things were going to be alright, he wasn't going to delude himself into thinking he was genuinely important to someone again, was going to spare himself any more agony. Going back to the Gryffindor Commons was the only option at this point; Taking a shower, changing into clean clothes, drape his blood stained T Shirt across one of his trunks as a reminder that people did nothing but hurt one another.

It was alright.

At least he had himself.